


Sore Amazement Soaring

by frozen_delight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Season/Series 11, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozen_delight/pseuds/frozen_delight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s dreams are a landscape of could-bes and might-have-beens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sore Amazement Soaring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crowroad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowroad/gifts).



> For crowroad3, who’s such a wonderful presence in this fandom. <3
> 
> This fic has been rattling around in my head ever since Lucifer told Sam that he respects him but doesn’t like him back in 11x10. If Lucifer seems somewhat different than the smirking puppet currently prancing across our sceens, that’s deliberate, since I tried to stick to Lucifer’s characterisation back in S5. Also meant to be a fix-it for one of my major issues with 11x14.
> 
> Unbetaed, apologies for any mistakes.

Petals.

Rose petals, burgundy, floating towards him on the surface of the murky lake like blurred sigils in Enochian. That’s how Dean knew he wasn’t alone.

Looking up, Dean saw Cas standing on the middle of the lake. He was slowly walking towards him, a half-plucked rose in his hand, his feet barely touching the water.

The breath caught in Dean’s throat. A divine apparition, that’s what this was; an answer to Dean’s half-forgotten prayers after Cas—no, the thing that was no longer Cas had waded into this lake and all that resurfaced was black goo and his wet coat, a scanty burial shroud.

“Cas?” Dean called out, filled with fresh hope for the first time since—well, since. What if this was Cas reaching out to him, wanting to be saved like Dean had always claimed he would?

A pitying smile was his only answer.

“Lucifer!” He jumped to his feet. Terror and dejection fueled his anger. “Get the fuck out of my head!”

“I’m not in your head, I’m in your dream.”

“Then get the fuck out of my dream, asshat!”

Frantically, Dean ran his hands across his forearms, his pockets, his ankles—nothing. How come he had no weapon even though he was never unarmed in real life? He made a mental note to hunt down whichever douchey deity was responsible for dream logic once he managed to wake up from this insanity.

“I can’t,” Lucifer said, still with the pitying smile.

“You mean you won’t.”

Dean pinched himself hard, but unless this nightmare was actually real—and fuck, far too much of this was real already!—he remained fast asleep, trapped in his own private Isengard prison with the Devil staring at him through the deep blue eyes of his best friend.

Fan-freakin’-tastic.

“Okay, I won’t,” Lucifer admitted, a hint of petulance creeping into his voice. He came to a halt in front of Dean, the rose petals nestling against his toes. “Not before we’ve had a little chat.”

“Chat? Oh, let’s chat. You wanna know what I’ve got to say to you? Let Cas go, you bastard!”

Dean sent his most intimidating glare in Lucifer’s direction. Unfortunately, having to look up to the devil ‘cause he was still prancing about on the fucking surface of the water like he belonged there somewhat lessened the effect.

“I intend to.” Lucifer tilted his wrist, and a moment later he’d sunk knee-deep into the lake, finally putting Dean at his usual height advantage over Cas. “Better?”

“Not good enough,” Dean growled. “Let Cas go right now.”

“Believe me, Dean, I want to.”

The worst thing was how sincere Lucifer seemed. Gone was the smirking monkey who’d tried to take the Hand of God. Instead, an aura of graciousness and serenity enveloped him. It was infinitely more terrifying.

For it reminded Dean of the nightmare Zachariah had once plunged him into. How he’d stared into his brother’s eyes, and had not immediately seen the monster there he’d expected to find, just beauty, youth and grace. How he’d understood then why Sam had given in, why the whole planet had given in; how for a fleeting second he’d no longer been sure he wouldn’t give in himself.

The wide-eyed, childlike frown aimed at him now should have been Cas’s alone—yet here Lucifer was, pulling it off effortlessly, earnest remorse included.

“That’s why we need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“My father made a mistake. Well, technically, two mistakes; one cardinal, one consequential. The first was that he created you, the flawed, murderous human race.” He gesticulated at the murky water surrounding him. “Just see what you did to his creation. These waters used to be crystal clear, home to a million different species. Ninety-nine percent of which are now extinct, thanks to the carelessness and greed of your kind.”

Dean shuddered. “Pal, skip the Greenpeace sermon.” He didn’t need Lucifer to point out to him what a biotope of destruction this place was. “Get to the damn point already.”

“My point is—this mistake bred all other mistakes. Even mine. My father’s plans were always perfect and just. But once applied to these abominations, these hairless apes, they were twisted into chaos. I’ve had much time to think about it ever since the apocalypse that never was. And now I know that it was always meant to be you.”

“Me—what? I don’t follow.”

Lucifer tilted his head imploringly, the way Cas had done countless times when he was trying to get Dean to listen. “You’re my true vessel, Dean.”

Dean stared at him.

Lucifer scrunched up his eyes and nodded; a sign of reassurance. This one, too, Dean knew intimately. _Oh Cas_.

“It became apparent to me as soon as you took on the Mark of Cain.” A self-deprecating smile appeared on Lucifer’s face. “I should have realized it sooner. I mean—Sam? Let’s be honest, he’s a prissy, boring nerd, just like Michael.”

Boring? That was the last word Dean would ever have used to describe Sam, no matter how big a geek he was.

“Stop talking about my brother, asshole!”

“Happily. I’d much rather talk about you. You see—I’m fascinated. Sam, Castiel, they don’t get you, not really.”

“But you do?” Dean scoffed.

“Yes. We’re very much alike, after all.”

“I’m nothing like you! But listen to me, you son of a bitch—I’m gonna be the one who makes you pay for everything you’ve done and shoves you back into that Cage where you can rot for the rest of eternity!”

Lucifer’s smile didn’t waver. “That’s the spirit. So, do you take my offer?”

“What offer?”

“To fulfil your true destiny. To become my vessel.”

“Forget it.”

The memory of Lucifer pinning him to the wall in the bunker was still too fresh. _No more. Please no more_ , he’d thought then. First Dad, then Sam, now Cas—random unpredictable evil slithering into his family circle again and again, shattering the few certainties he’d managed to hold on to.

“Haven’t you listened to a word I said?” A note of impatience crept into Lucifer’s voice. “Or maybe you’re still under the mistaken impression that I don’t need another vessel, because of what I said the last time we met? Sorry, I lied.” He lifted his hands. “I won’t do it again, promise.”

Dean shook off the memory of Dad leering at him, even though he could still smell the mixture of sweat, whiskey and sulfur assaulting his nostrils. “You can take your promises where the sun don’t shine—”

“Castiel served his purpose in freeing me from the Cage,” Lucifer interrupted him, “but he’s not my true vessel, he can’t contain me forever. Even at the height of his powers, I would have burned him out in a couple of months. But now—he’s no longer the divine champion who raised you from perdition. He’s so broken beyond recognition, more flawed and pathetic than any human could ever be. He’s already wearing a bit thin. I give him three more weeks, four at the most.”

“Dammit Cas!” Dean exclaimed before he could stop himself. He choked down a sob. Why had Cas ever agreed to this pointless suicide mission?

“Yes, poor, stupid Castiel. But you can still save him, Dean.”

“By becoming your vessel?” The pieces of the puzzle finally came together. Dean swallowed hard. Sam had fought with everything he had to resist Lucifer, both six years ago and now; Dean wasn’t gonna betray him by taking the easy way out. “That’s never gonna happen.”

“Actually, I think it’s going to happen very soon,” Lucifer corrected him. “Think about it, Dean. I know how much you beat yourself up over the fact that you can’t defeat the Darkness yourself. But together, we can end her. I can make you into the hero you want to be. I can give you the closure you need.”

“Sammy and I are gonna find a way to shank her, we don’t need you for that. Sam outsmarted _you_ , the biggest monster ever hatched. Don’t think he can’t outsmart Amara too! And once we’ve dealt with her—you’re next.”

“Fine. But do keep in mind that it will already be too late for poor Castiel then.”

Instinctively, Dean stepped forward. “Cas, if you can hear me—”

“Don’t bother,” Lucifer cut him off. “He’s too busy crying his heart out to listen.”

“If you’re torturing him, I swear to God—”

“Never take my father’s name in vain!” Lucifer thundered.

Suddenly he seemed three times as tall and sinister, not unlike the transformation Galadriel had undergone when faced with the One Ring—except that Lucifer had never been a hot chick to begin with. The force of his breath alone sent Dean sprawling to the muddy ground.

Then, like a cloud that had passed, the benign version of Lucifer was back. “I’m not the one torturing him,” he said gently while Dean carefully leveraged himself back to his feet. “That’s all on you.”

“What—?”

“Don’t you know you’re the reason Castiel was so desperate to throw himself into my arms?”

Compassion was carved into every feature of Lucifer’s face. With the same expression Cas had looked at crying infants and dying bees. But above all at Dean. _You don’t think you deserve to be saved_. _You can’t save everyone, my friend_. And even though Dean had always felt unworthy of such a regard, he’d cherished it.

“You’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Dean, not about this. Ever since his fingers accidentally grazed your sweet ass in Hell, Castiel craved to be more than your sidekick.” His eyes traveled suggestively over Dean’s form. “You are one of my father’s most remarkable creations; it’s hardly surprising. And now, hearing you say you won’t sacrifice yourself for him… It’s safe to say you crushed the last shreds of hope he’d still been holding on to.”

Dean ran a shaking hand across his forehead, overwhelmed by a thousand might-have-beens. All the chances he’d pushed aside, one by one, convinced there’d still be time after. After the apocalypse. After the leviathans. But every after had turned into a new before. Maybe he’d just been scared.

“I don’t blame you, Dean,” Lucifer interrupted his grim thoughts in the softest voice imaginable. “You couldn’t have known.”

Every word was like a knife to Dean’s gut. After all, if Cas had eventually lost the hope and patience to wait, who was to blame if not Dean?

Fuck, what was the moral of this story? Dean had said _yes_ where he shouldn’t have, taking on the Mark and releasing the Darkness, and hadn’t said _yes_ where he should have, rejecting Cas a thousand times too often. Would a final _yes_ right it all, or be more wrong than ever?

“Only time will tell,” Lucifer said as if in answer to Dean’s silent question. “I don’t underestimate you, Dean. You’re strong. If anyone can beat me, it’s you. So who knows, maybe you really will shove me back into the Cage to rot there for all eternity, like you said. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Because I like you, Dean.”

Slowly, Lucifer extended the hand still holding the rose.

“Here. Take some time to think about my offer.” He passed the rose to Dean. “We’ll meet again when it’s spent.”

Then he stretched his arms wide. A welcoming embrace? A foreboding cross? It was impossible to tell.

He ascended to the surface of the lake, then soared further upwards, higher and higher—

—With a gasp, Dean jolted up from his sleep. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. _It was only a dream_ , he told himself. _It means nothing_.

He untangled himself from the blankets which clung to his clammy skin and mentally went through the contents of their fridge. Unless Sam had bothered to do the shopping for once, they were out of milk. Again. But there ought to be a full pack of coffee left. Hopefully.

The comforting familiarity of his memory foam and the pictures on his nightstand had just begun to calm his pulse and breathing, when his gaze fell onto his pillow.

Right next to the indentation of his head lay a half-plucked rose blossom.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feedback is love.
> 
> You can also talk to me here: [LJ](http://frozen-delight.livejournal.com/) | [Tumblr](http://frozen-delight.tumblr.com/)


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